


pocket of happiness // dead, dead, dead

by ballerinaroy



Series: nineteen years later seems pretty far away [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Book 7: Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, F/M, Gen, missing moment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-11
Updated: 2020-02-11
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:01:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22667440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ballerinaroy/pseuds/ballerinaroy
Summary: Ron and Hermione during The Forest Again & The Flaw in the Plan.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: nineteen years later seems pretty far away [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1263350
Comments: 13
Kudos: 72





	pocket of happiness // dead, dead, dead

**Author's Note:**

> First part was posted awhile ago on my[Tumblr](https://ballerinaroy.tumblr.com/) awhile ago and the second part was prompted this week. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

She didn’t want to call attention to his absence and instead looked to Ron who, despite the tears rolling down his cheeks, understood her at once. Just as Harry must have, they slipped away, hand in hand, back through the aisle of people who’s lives had been stolen.

They were the only ones who could end this now.

“He probably went to Dumbledore’s office,” Hermione assured him, sitting beside him on the stone steps. “To use the pensive.”

“Right,” Ron said distractedly, gazing out the front doors onto the darkened grounds. “We’ll just wait for him.”

The logical part of her brain, which was working with less efficiency by the second, told her that they needed to make a plan. All that was left was the snake, the snake and then Voldemort and then this nightmare would finally be over. She knew this, Harry knew this.

So where was he now?

Ginny apparently had followed them from the hall and she glanced at them, peering around them as if they were hiding Harry behind them. For a second, Hermione was reminded of the brief period that Ron tried using them as shields to hide from Lavender….

_Lavender_.

From where Hermione was sitting she could still see her long blonde curls peeking out from beneath a blood-soaked sheet.

Ginny didn’t ask and they didn’t lie. Instead, she swallowed heavily and turned from them to the open doors and walked out into the inky night without a single word. Hermione glanced down at the watch on Ron’s wrist, their hour respite was nearly half used and Harry was nowhere in sight. Her gut twisted.

“Ron,” Hermione whispered, afraid to even think the terrible thought as if thinking it would make it true. “He didn’t-“

The answer was plain as day in his expression, even as he said in a horrified whisper, “He wouldn’t be so daft.”

The awfulness of it gripped at her chest. She wanted to deny it, to lie to Ron and make it—just for a moment—seem like a ridiculous possibility. Instead, she caught his eye and knew at once there was no use. If it had been anyone else, anyone what Ron, she could have managed a shake of the head. But they knew Harry better than anyone.

Hermione watched as Ron’s lip began to quiver. She had seen him cry before, yes, but not like this. He ducked down, hiding his face against her chest and without thought she wrapped her arms around him and held him close.

Feeling him tremble made her faith shake. When Harry died—no she couldn’t like that. _If_ Harry died didn’t seem much better, their side would be thrown into chaos. Enough people knew of the prophecy, or perhaps they were simply putting their blind faith into the possibility that someone would win this war for them.

It was easier that way, to take the burden from their shoulders.

Ron had raised his head from her and the tear marks had wiped through the grime and soot covering his face.

“Come with me,” He whispered to her.

Without thinking she rose with him, abandoning the post they’d taken and followed him up the stairs and into the first classroom on their right. They’d had a transfiguration lesson in here once, back in their first year. The innocent memory made her throat ache.

The empty classroom had seen battle, desks overturned, windows shattered. Before Hermione could take it all in she felt Ron’s hands on her again, pulling her flush with his body and then, after a moment of looking into her eyes, they were kissing once more.

For a moment the battle disappeared, their destiny which was rushing toward them seemed a lifetime away. All that mattered was Ron’s lips on hers, finally on hers. She had spent hours idly daydreaming about kissing him and the reality was so much sweeter. His lips were chapped, though Hermione supposed hers were no better, and they reeked of battle and death. It was nothing as she imagined their first moments together would feel.

Too soon they parted for air, Ron was looking dazed with a self-satisfied smirk. Hermione could feel herself grinning stupidly. She wanted to kiss him again, she never wanted to stop kissing him, she could spend a lifetime here in his arms, their own pocket of happiness in the middle of this nightmare—

And then, at once, their reality crashed over her. She was grateful for Ron’s arms still around her, holding her closely for they made her feel alive.

“You should go,” Ron said softly, pulling her from her thoughts.

“Go where?” she asked stupidly, tilting her head up to look at him without pulling away.

“Away,” he answered in a surprisingly firm voice.

“I’m not leaving you,” she said at once, tightening her grip as if he would push her away and it would make him disappear forever.

“I have to stay, my parents already lost F—“ Ron stopped as if finishing Fred’s name would make it a reality. “My whole family’s here, I can’t leave them.”

“Ron-“ she whined.

“Besides, you’re the brilliant one, we both know it. If anyone can figure out how to get the snake it’ll be you.” He said firmly. “I can manage a distraction and you can go. There’s no way they’ll allow us both to escape, but you…”

“If I don’t have you I won’t have anyone.” Hermione pointed out, her own voice wavering. “You’re all I’ve got left. My parents are gone, Harry’s—“ she choked over his name. “I can’t do it without you Ron, and you can’t fight them without me either.”

“I can’t lose you,” Ron whispered back. He was gripping at her now, his large hands firm around her middle. “Hermione I can’t lose anyone else, but I can’t lose you.”

To silence him, or perhaps to show him how strongly she felt for him, she kissed him again. She felt like she couldn’t get enough of him, that their bodies, though flush with one another, should somehow be closer. Every kiss felt stolen and numbered. Their best friend was gone. They were in the middle of a war. It was unlikely they would live to see the dawn.

They stared down at the watch on Ron’s wrist. Its surface was cracked, but the seconds ticked on, impossibly fast under observation. Hermione felt herself counting down in her head, _five, four, three, two_ … With bated breath, they watched as the hour turned and the deadline passed and no sign that their best friend was alive.

From the threshold to the great hall they both scanned the room, already knowing the answer. Hermione had known he wouldn’t be but still, it came as a shock. Harry wasn’t here. Her best friend was gone.

_He hadn’t even said goodbye._

Hermione blinked back tears, forcing herself to compose herself. If Harry hadn’t gone to him, willingly given himself up, then they would have announced themselves by now. Voldemort would be taunting Harry, using his lack of sacrifice as the reason for his endless bloodshed. But there was no booming voice, no demand or threats. Harry had answered the call.

She looked to Ron who was still scanning the room. His hand gripped hers so tightly it was almost painful.

A nervous chatter had broken out, as eyes scanned just like theirs, wands held more tightly now.

Across the entrance hall, in the shadow of the doors leading out to the grounds in a figure was nervously pacing back and forth, barely visible in the rising sun.

“What’s Neville doing?” Ron asked, following her line of sight.

Neville, perhaps having heard his name, looked up nervously and seemed unable to meet their eyes. Curiosity took over Hermione and she tugged on Ron’s jacket for him to follow her.

He didn’t seem pleased that they had chosen to approach him. The nervous Neville they’d grown up alongside had been replaced in their year-long absence with someone more confident, someone with a clear mission. Hermione found it strange he didn’t want to speak with them now.

“Neville,” Ron greeted.

He looked up at them with a long and sad look and then muttered. “I didn’t think he was actually going to, I would have tried to stop him if I’d known.”

“What are you talking about?” Hermione asked, her heart beating hard in her chest with only the mention of Harry. “Did you see him, Neville? Where?”

“About half an hour ago,” Neville said, and the hope vanished from her chest in an instant. “Out on the grounds. I swear, I didn’t think-“

She felt hallow. They must have just missed him passing up to the classroom. If only they’d hung about, if only they’d gotten there sooner, perhaps they could have stopped them.

“We’ve spent the past seven years trying to convince him out of doing something stupid,” Ron said. “We haven’t had much success.”

Neville smiled weakly at them. “I’m sorry.”

He reached out, putting his hand on her shoulder in a comforting manner. “What do we do?” Neville asked her.

They were both looking at her now, searching for guidance and instruction. Hermione didn’t want this burden of responsibility. It was always supposed to be Harry. Hermione felt Ron’s hand snake into hers once more and she looked at him helplessly. Neville removed his hand, eyeing their joined hands sadly.

Hermione, unable to come up with an answer as overwhelming grief clouded her thoughts stood silently. It was Neville who broke the silence.

“Harry said something about Voldemort’s snake,” Neville whispered to them.

Hermione looked to Ron at once. They’d agreed not to tell anyone, even those who could have assisted them along the way. It was this, the fact that Harry had replaced himself in the secret held by three, that put a finality on it for her. Harry was dead. There would be time to grieve, after. But only if they kept fighting.

“You can’t kill it with normal spells,” Ron murmured in the same low voice. “It has to be something more deadly, like fiendfyre fire, or—“

“Or the sword,” Neville said, his eyes twinkling for the first time. “That’s why Ginny wanted us to steal it.”

They all looked back, Ginny was sitting just inside the hall with Luna in a low discussion. She looked up and met Hermione’s eyes and they didn’t need words to convey the terrible truth about where the boy who lived had gone. There was enough sadness in Ginny’s eyes for them all.

“Yes,” Hermione agreed, blinking back tears as she broke eye contact with the girl in question, “But Ginny didn’t know why.”

“Where is it? We heard it got sent to Gringotts,” Neville continued.

“It was a fake.” Ron explained, “We had it, but a goblin stole it from us.” He let go of her hand and gestured to her bag. “Hermione, how many fangs do we have left?”

Hermione opened the beaded bag which was looking worn for the wear and searched. From it she produced the three remaining fangs and distributed them to the group, pressing them into Neville and Ron’s hands so no one else could see what they were doing.

“We have to kill the snake,” Hermione pressed upon them, she didn’t raise her voice above a whisper as they were standing so close. “Then we can take our shot at Voldemort.”

It sounded impossible. She could tell the feeling was shared by her companions by the uneasy expressions on their faces.

“Tonight,” Ron said in a firm voice, only it wasn’t night anymore. The battle had already raged through the night and into the weak morning light. “Tonight, we make it our mission to get the snake. If we lose sight of him after, we make a break for it. Go somewhere and make a plan. Once the snake is gone, then anyone can defeat him. With any luck, someone can catch him off guard and if not then we’ll find him later.”

This plan didn’t seem any more possible than the plans they’d made in the last year, but Hermione didn’t know what else to suggest. Her counterparts offered no objection. Behind them, the Great Hall was buzzing and Hermione could see faces staring out at them, waiting for the next instruction. At the front was Ginny, her eyes boring into them.

“Should we tell them?” Neville asked uneasily. “About the snake I mean?”

“No use, without fangs they can’t kill it,” Hermione said practically.

“No one else knows, I don’t want someone else getting hurt in the process.” Ron agreed, “Unless one of us dies, or is about to die.”

The thought of losing either of them was too much for her. Ron put his arm around her comfortingly. She wanted to sink into his touch, shield herself from the awfulness that was to come. The noise from the great hall had increased and Hermione looked instead out onto the grounds, squinting for a sign of life.

Time seemed to stretch on for an eternity and yet when the sounds of breaking trees and horrible laughter echoed from the grounds if felt like no time had passed at all. They stayed, huddled within the castle as his voice, his horrible voice announced what Hermione had already known to be true.

“Harry Potter is dead….”

His voice droned on but Ron couldn’t repeat a word. His victory speech went unheard as Ron looked down at Hermione, tears streaming down her face as the word echoed in his brain. _Dead, dead, dead._

The sounds of marching resumed but when they went to meet the oncoming army, McGonagall was suddenly there, standing in the entrance hall and blocking their path.

“Wait,” she told them, her hair askew and blood dripping from a nasty gash on her arm.

And although there was no point in delaying, Ron found herself strangely grateful for the order. He looked down at Hermione, smearing her tears with the pads of his fingers and pressed together their foreheads for what he feared a final time, all the while fighting the urge to tell her again run.

The ranks of Voldemort crowded the courtyard, spreading all around so there’d be no escape, and then, from the rear of the troops, came the unmistakable silhouette of Hagrid.

“NO!”

McGonagall, who’d been keeping them at bay, was suddenly feet ahead, her scream terrible. Ron rushed forward, tugging Hermione along, and he saw it too.

Cradled like an infant in Hagrid arms, Harry’s body lay limp.

“No!”

Ron was unsure who’d shouted it first, him or Hermione. And then there was Ginny, desperately shouting Harry’s name, restrained only by the arms of their father from charging forward, and the screams of their peers, their professors, all those who had been fighting bravely through the night rose up, louder and louder but without filling the gaping hole in her heart.

“Silence!” Voldemort commanded, his command accomplished only with the aid of his wand for without it Ron knew they’d never stop fighting.

The whole experience, so surreal, peaked as Hagrid gently lowered Harry to the ground where he lay, limp, on the grassy ground. Ron stared, hard, willing for him to move, to twitch. To force Ron out of the horrible dream.

_Fred, Lupin, Tonks…Harry_. _Dead, dead, dead._

But there was no twitching, no flutter of his chest, no sign at all that this might be his plan. You-Know-Who continued to gloat, and Ron, unable to contain his grief, yelled with all of his might, “He beat you!”

The cry inspired others, and again, all around, verbal abuse rained down on the Death Eaters until a second, more chilling silencing charm overcame them. It was Neville who defied him next, stepping forward bravely.

Ron blinked, relief flooding him as Neville broke from his full body bind and in the same heroic motion, beheaded Nagini. He hadn’t thought it possible, to get the snake that You-Know-Who had kept so closely guarded, but here he was, victorious. Nagini was finished and there was only one thing left…

Chaos abounded and when Ron looked to Harry, wanting to ensure that his body was protected-he was gone. There wasn’t time to say anything to Hermione, her shield charm scarcely protecting them from the onslaught of arrows or Death Eaters who were now seeking safety within the walls of the castle. There was scarcely time to think at all for, against all odds, they were no longer outnumbered, overpowered. In fact, all around them, Death Eaters were starting to crumble.

They’d just made it back into the entrance hall when Greyback, arms held stupidly over his head, barreled into them and Ron pointed his wand in retaliation, his stunning spell just barely missing. Greyback looked up in shock as the red jet of light grazed his shoulder and then his eyes locked onto Ron, an enraged look spreading over his features.

Strangely there was no fear as Ron pressed on, seeking revenge for both his brother and the night Greyback had ripped them from their tent. For Lupin, for every threat, he’d ever made and every child he’d ever scarred. Without mercy, he engaged the horrid beast, determined to never let him harm another soul.

And he wasn’t alone.

For a second wand soon stood feet away, their duel fast and without words. When Ron chanced a glance to see who had come to his aid he was relieved to see it was Neville, an equally determined look of ferocity on his features.

Neville’s spell caused Greyback to lose his balance and the distraction was enough for Ron to roar, “Expelliamous!”

Greyback’s wand shot from his hand and disappeared into the swelling crowd. Alarm flicked across his features for only a moment. Suddenly he looked more wolf-like than ever and as he turned to charge them Ron was convinced he was about to run on all four limbs. But Ron wasn’t going to give him the opportunity.

His first stunning spell hit him straight in the chest as did his second, his third. Neville’s own jets of red light exploded against the man responsible for so much pain and at last, he crumpled to the ground, limp and with unfocused eyes.

There was no time to consider what he’d done for around them the battle was still raging. Neville nodded and set off towards where Seamus and Hannah were engaging another masked person and Ron looked around wildly for Harry and Hermione, forgetting, for just a moment, that there wouldn’t be a Harry to find.

_Dead, dead, dead._

Ron blinked, another flash of anger coursing through him, but when he took in his surroundings, there were no fights to be had, nothing he could jump into, no one he could assist; for while he’d been fighting his own battle all around the Death Eaters had been defeated. Indeed all that was left was You-Know-Who, scarcely holding off McGonagall, Kingsley, and Slughorn and—

Ron watched, helplessly as his mother refused help again, battling with a fearsome look in her eyes. Despite her refusals, her shouts that this was her fight, Ron found himself sprinting towards her. He’d already lost his best friend and his brother, he couldn’t bear the thought of losing her too. But before he was close enough to join in, a pair of hands reached out and when he looked over he found his father holding him back, an equally anxious look on his face as the battle raged on and on until-

It was with that same unabated furry that Ron watched his mother end the life of the woman who had terrorized an entire generation. Screams of relief erupted in the gathered crowd, interrupted by another loud bang and from the corner of his eyes Ron saw three figures thrown back from the strength of a spell and Ron knew, instinctively, that it was Voldemort who had caused the noise.

He squared his shoulders, ducking under his father’s arm, ready to take up the fight as Voldemort thrust his wand in his mother’s direction. In the second that passed, Ron was certain that he was just as likely to be hit as his mother but before he could raise his wand to protect himself he heard a familiar voice--

“Protego!”

Ron turned, unbelieving. He knew that voice, that shout, that spell. His heart lifted even as his brain repeated _dead, dead dead._

And there, in the middle of the hall, invisibility clock fluttering to the ground stood Harry Potter.

The swelling in Ron’s chest was indescribable and he was lost for words even as all around them his best friend’s name was shouted. He turned and Hermione met his eyes from feet away, she too at the forefront of the crowd, ready to charge with him.

_Alive._

Their best friend. Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived.


End file.
